


The Degradation of Ben (Or, You Shouldn't Pinch Martin's Bum at Film Premieres, Benedict.)

by annabagnell



Category: Sherlock (TV) RPF, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Dildos, Dirty Talk, Loo sex, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/pseuds/annabagnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with the bum pinch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Degradation of Ben (Or, You Shouldn't Pinch Martin's Bum at Film Premieres, Benedict.)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [The Degradation of Ben (Or, You Shouldn't Pinch Martin's Bum at Film Premieres, Benedict.)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2101785) by [pdddyxl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pdddyxl/pseuds/pdddyxl)



> Having a bit of fun. Based on events at the infamous Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug premiere.

It started with the bum pinch. 

 

He’d been feeling cheeky - no pun intended - and though they’d agreed that the focus would be on Martin for tonight, Ben wasn’t 100% behind the idea. 

 

He was, however, 100% behind Martin, and he saw the chance, and he took it. 

 

Minutes later, his mobile buzzed with a text. Martin. 

 

_You bastard. Meet me in the loo when you get my next text. You’re in for it._

 

A shiver ran down Benedict’s back as he pocketed his mobile again. He was on tenterhooks for the first half of the film, barely able to pay attention to the activity on the screen as he waited for Martin to text him again. When he finally felt his mobile buzz, he didn’t even pull it from his pocket, certain that the signal meant a message from Martin. 

 

He quietly excused himself from the theatre main, nearly jogging down the aisle in his haste to meet Martin. He stopped to straighten his tie and tuck a slicked curl back into his coif, smoothing his suit front before striding quickly to the loo. 

 

Martin was there, tapping his foot impatiently as he leaned against the tile wall. Benedict started to apologise, but Martin interrupted him as though he hadn’t spoken. “Lock the door. I don’t want anyone interrupting us during your punishment.” 

 

A flush rose to Ben’s cheeks, his skin rapidly approaching the colour of his velvet suit, as he turned and fumbled with the lock on the door. Turning back to Martin, he saw that the man had stepped closer, looking at Benedict with a mixture of lust and irk. The man, though far shorter than Ben himself, was intimidating, and Benedict felt his knees go weak as Martin took another step forward. 

 

“Thought you could get away with that stunt, did you?” he asked lowly, and Benedict swallowed audibly. “Pinching my arse during a goddamn interview. Causing a scene. That’s worthy of punishment, don’t you think?” 

 

Benedict hesitated just a moment before nodding. “Yes…Martin.” 

 

“Don’t call me Martin, you whore. What do you call me, when you’re being punished?” 

 

“Yes, Master.” 

 

“That’s what I thought. Right then, how should I punish you this time?” Martin asked, assuming a parade rest posture - shoulders square, hands clasped behind his back, clean lines - save for the tilt of his head, the cock of an eyebrow. “You enjoy the spanking too much, and I can’t do anything that might leave a mark above your neck…so no throttling. Which only leaves us with a few options, Benedict, so which shall it be?” 

 

Ben flushes even redder and swallows again. “You could…erm, you could make me…undress and…decide for yourself,” he murmured quietly, and fidgeted with one jacket sleeve. 

 

Martin jerked his head up briefly, eyeing Benedict up, and then nodded. “Right, go on then, strip,” he commanded, taking a step back and leaning against the wall. 

 

Benedict looked down at the floor as he unbuttoned his suit jacket, shaking the velvet garment off and folding it before setting it on the counter and starting in on his shirt sleeves. 

 

Martin watched as the cuffs came loose, and as Benedict’s long fingers began to loose the buttons from his chest down, his breath suddenly picked up. “Oh, you naughty boy,” Martin murmured. 

 

There was a glint in Benedict’s eye as he bared inch after inch of his body, revealing not bare skin, but more expanses of black cloth. Ribboned, laced, tied black cloth. Sleek black cloth that covered his pectorals, thin straps that ran up over his shoulders and connected in the back to

 

two long rows of metal-edged holes, strings pulling two edges of ribbed cloth tight around Benedict’s slender waist, creating almost womanly curves beneath his ribs and down to his hips, where just a spare inch of skin was visible between

 

The bottom of the corset and the top of a lacy black pair of panties, exposed as Benedict shyly kicked off his shoes and slid his trousers down and off his narrow hips. But the panties weren’t the end, apparently, if the thin black straps running down his thighs were any indication. “So, so naughty,” Martin repeated, and waited until Benedict had divested himself down to just his underclothes, standing in sheer stocking feet on the polished marble of the loo floor. 

 

The tall man’s chest and neck were flushed red, the colour creeping up into his pale cheekbones and setting off the iridescent blue-green of his eyes. “I have been naughty, master,” Ben murmured, holding his hands in front of himself, knotted over the bulge in his panties, legs slightly off-kilter and crossed. 

 

“Goddamn, yes, you have,” Martin growled, and rushed forward, spinning Benedict around and giving the taller man just enough time to fling his arms against the wall as a brace before he was mouthing hot kisses against the back of his neck, hands gripping hard at the man’s hips and belly and scraping against black cloth as he scrabbled for purchase. A low moan rumbled in Benedict’s chest as Martin tugged at the strings of his corset, pulling the cloth tighter and yanking the breath from Benedict’s lungs. 

 

“Is it…good…Martin?” Benedict gasped, feeling Martin’s erection growing and grinding against his silk-clad rear. Martin only growled in response, tugging at Benedict’s corset strings one more time and grinning at the whine that escaped the actor’s lips before he pulled back and fumbled with the belt of his trousers. 

 

“Brace yourself,” Martin grunted, “I’m going to…oh.” His voice trailed off as his fingers, which had been questing for Benedict’s hole, were met with a warm red knob. “Oh, fuck, Ben, you’re filthy,” he growled, gripping the knob and pressing it upwards. The shudder that ran through the man’s body told Martin that he’d had it in for hours, at least, and when he slid his hand around front and pressed against Ben’s erection his suspicion was confirmed. 

 

Martin slid both hands to land on Ben’s hips, fingers just under the elastic waistband of the panties, and started pushing them down, the fabric catching on the ridges of his hips and going tight over the curve of his rear. He tweaked the red knob as the panties passed it, and grinned as he heard a strangled gasp come from Ben’s throat. “Maybe I should work you up and make you go back, hmm?” Martin murmured, and laughed under his breath as Benedict yelped an eager ‘no’. “Well, then, this isn’t much of a punishment, is it?” 

 

“No, M-master, but. I’ll be so good, I promise, I’ll be so good at the rest of the premiers, I’ll behave,” Benedict babbled, but Martin shushed him with a twist of the knob in his arse. 

 

“But then I don’t get to punish you like this,” Martin responded, gripping the knob and starting to ease it out of Benedict’s body as the man shook. “You’ve been bad, Benedict, and now I get to punish you by abusing your arse here, home, and as much as I want. That’s a good punishment, don’t you think?” Ben nodded furiously, and Martin pulled the plug out of Ben’s arse and tossed it onto the countertop. “Now, bend over and brace yourself,” he murmured, and felt Ben square himself up to the wall. 

 

Martin’s cock hung heavy and full in front of him, erect almost to the point of pain as he gave it a few short strokes with his fist. He pushed himself up on tiptoes and lined up with Ben’s open hole, pushing in all at once and moaning as the man’s tight body clenched hard around him. “Please, Martin, please fuck me, I’ve been waiting for so long, _god,_ ” Benedict pled, pushing back against Martin’s hips, wanting him in deeper. 

 

“You want my cock, don’t you, you whore,” Martin rumbled, and started fucking Benedict relentlessly, the taller actor’s neck going slack and hanging between his braced arms, curls coming loose with every judder. “You’ve been imagining it all night, hoping I’d punish you for what you did. You’ve been planning this for days, haven’t you, buying a new dildo to wear, opening yourself up for me to _fuck_ you. And during the premier of our movie, too, you slut.” 

 

Martin’s fingers dug white marks into Ben’s hips and plush rear, each dull slap of flesh sending ripples outwards along the lush curve. Benedict was gasping helplessly, air already unable to enter his constricted lungs as the corset held his ribs tight, now hardly able to draw even the shallowest of breaths as Martin fucked him hard and deep. His stockings, held up by the elastic bands clipped to his panties, slid down as his body shook, eventually pooling around his ankles. His cock, hard and jutting, dripped precome onto the sheer fabric, ruining the garments - but Benedict didn’t care. 

 

Ben’s eyes were squeezed tight shut, his breathing shallow and erratic, while Martin’s own breaths low and raspy as he used Benedict’s hips as a lever to thrust in deeper, harder. Finally, with an almost agonized cry, Benedict came, long fingers grasping at slick tiles as his body shook and spasmed with his orgasm. Martin continued to pound into him through the contractions, just barely able to wait until they subsided before his own orgasm took him and he came hard inside Benedict. 

 

Shallow, laboured breaths echoed around the tiled walls as both men recovered from their orgasms, bodies shaking and sweaty. “That…” Benedict tried, found he was unable to form words, swallowed and tried again. “That was…a good punishment, I think,” he managed, and giggled when he heard Martin’s breathy laugh behind him. 

 

“I really have entirely too much fun ‘punishing’ you, Benedict, you bastard,” Martin sighed, easing out of Ben’s body and flopping against the wall next to Benedict. “You make it all too easy, with your fucking…moaning and pleading. God. I don’t know how I managed to last that long.” 

 

“Nor do I,” Benedict mused, straightening up weakly and kicking off his ruined stockings. “But the panties and bra and corset, though? That was…good?” 

 

“Yeah, that was ‘good’,” Martin scoffed, head thumping back against the wall. “Make sure you keep those. Maybe buy a few new pairs. We can use those at home.” Ben nodded in agreement and unclipped the suspenders from the panties, tossing the stockings in the trash and pulling the panties back on, wincing as the fabric brushed over his sensitive prick. 

 

Martin watched lazily as the man pulled his clothes back on, looking entirely too rumpled to go back into the theatre. His own clothes were in a similar state, and dampened from his exertions, and he sighed regretfully as he tried to straighten himself in the mirror. “No way we can go back in looking like this,” he mumbled, and Ben nodded in agreement as he attempted to wrangle his curls back into place. “How do we sneak out of here?” 

 

“Don’t ask me,” Benedict replied, turning to look at his wrinkled jacket from the back before sighing defeatedly. “We could just…leave, go back to the hotel, and change before the after-party,” he suggested, and then caught sight of the plug lying on the counter. “Oh. Is that…should I just throw that away?” he asked Martin, gesturing towards the red rubber object. Martin didn’t reply, and Ben looked up, ready to repeat himself, before he saw the glint in Martin’s eye. He swallowed. 

 

“No, don’t toss it. We’re taking it with us…to the hotel,” Martin replied. “I’m not through punishing you just yet. You’ve been a very, very naughty boy.” 


End file.
